


I Owe You

by deansexual



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, M/M, Somewhat Pining, Top!Sam, bottom!Dean, some strong language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 05:35:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12183879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deansexual/pseuds/deansexual
Summary: “I owe you” there goes that damn sentence he keeps saying.“Stop fucking saying that!” Dean shouts, his body shaking with anger,” you owe me nothing”





	I Owe You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Wincest Writing challenge round 12. The theme was Richard Siken and my prompt was "I say I want you inside me and you hold my head underwater". I kinda took inspiration from the poem it comes from and not just that line, which is [Wishbone](http://www.colorado.edu/journals/standards/V7N1/MMM/siken.html)

The Winchester’s sit in the bunker, the youngest typing furiously on a laptop, the other drinking whiskey and cleaning his gun. They are silent, having just gotten back from a hunt; a Rugaru not too far from the bunker, easily taken care of.

During the hunt Sam decided to use himself as bait, nearly getting killed in the process. If not for Dean, even a few minutes later, he would’ve been another meal for that guy.

Of course, Dean was far from happy that Sam had not only used himself as bait, but didn’t even consult him about it in the first place. It was pure Winchester luck that Sam even made it out with barely a scratch, and there’s no telling if the next time they’ll be so lucky.

“Thank you” Sam stops typing, looking directly at Dean, sincerity in his words. “Without you, I would’ve been chewed up, and I know you’re pissed off with me” Dean continues cleaning his gun, as if his life depended on it. It was obvious that ‘pissed off’ was a bit of an understatement.

He touches the gun so softly, as if it’s made of glass, going to brake at any moment. He smiles softly, proud of how clean he has gotten the gun, the stench of rugaru blood no longer attached to it. He reaches for his whiskey, wanting to feel it’s warmth in the back of his throat, only for it to get taken by Sam.

His hand is still stretched out, stuck in place, as if he’s holding the whiskey glass, smile fading into a straight line. Sam wants Dean to look up at him, to say something, anything really. He knows Dean is angry, infuriated to the point where he couldn’t speak, hurt that Sam would knowingly put himself in harm’s way.

It stays silent in the bunker, thick with tension, as Dean pulls his arm back, staring at where the wickey glass once was, deep in thought. His jaw is clenching, teeth grinding together, fighting between letting it go or yelling every profanity he knows.

“I don’t say it enough, Dean, but thank you. Thank you for saving me, for every time that you have, I owe you” Sam smiles softly, his hand reaching out to touch Dean’s arm.

Dean watches in slow motion as his little brother’s hand falls on his arm, gently squeezing him. He’s forgotten all about Sam almost getting killed, about their fight from earlier, his mind is focused on that simple touch.

He’s eyes are focusing on the veins of Sam’s arms, how they stretch out like spider webs, falling back under his skin. How his fingers are so slender and gentle, as if they could never bring harm to anyone, not even himself.

Dean looks way, realizing he has been staring for a few seconds too long. He doesn’t want to meet Sam’s eyes, to spill out all his secrets, confess everything he’s ever thought about. There’s something so powerful and compelling about the way Sam looks, and it takes everything within Dean to resist it.

“You don’t owe me, Sam, you don’t owe me squat” Dean says, removing his arm from Sam’s grip, returning his attention to the gun in his other hand.

Sam frowns, putting his hand back at his side. He owes Dean everything not just for saving his life this once, he owes him for the countless times before this. For bringing him back, keeping him safe, watching out for him no matter the cost. Dean had been there for him when no one else was, so yeah, he owed him.

“I owe you Dean, I really do. After everything you’ve done for me,” He looks at the floor, a frown on his face,”and all i’ve done to you, I owe you” He reaches out for Dean once more, his hand hovering above Dean’s, but Dean pulls his arm away.

Dean shakes his head, Sam’s not getting it through his head, he’s not understanding.

“I’ve done things to you as well Sammy” Dean replies, thinking back to all the times he could not be there for Sam, and when someone else was.

When he died and went to hell, Ruby was there to replace him, and that turned him into a monster, driving their relationship apart. He had Amelia replace him when he went to purgatory, as well as a dog; the perfect family. Later she got back with her husband, leaving Sam behind. There was also Sully the imaginary friend who helped Sam through some of his worst times as a kid.

He almost killed Sam as a demon, didn’t even feel a thing for his brother. He wanted Sam to die, he wanted to kill Sam himself, but Sam saved him. He may not have known it, but it was Dean who owed Sam, not the other way around.

“I know but everything is ‘cause of me” His eyes say that he wants Dean to give in, to understand Sam wants to repay him, but Dean is too stubborn for that.

Dean sets the gun on the table, barrel facing away from Sam in fear it might go off by accident, and hit his brother. He puts his hands on the table, pushing down as he gets up, turning to head opposite of Sam, facing him. He’ll take that bullet for Sam, he has and always will.

Dean doesn’t want to continue the argument, he knows where it will lead to. Shouting back and forth about everything they did and didn’t do; the ‘could’ve been’ and ‘what should’ve been’. Dean doesn’t want that, he doesn’t want the feeling it brings, the tears and pain that follows in the pauses, not tonight.

“Just leave it be, Sam” Dean sighs, taking a step forward, his breath catching in his throat.

He does want to turn around, to ask Sam for one thing, and one thing only. He wants those two words to erupt from his mouth, fill that silence of the air, to resonate with Sam, and to be out there for the world to know. Sam said he had owed him, and Dean just wanted to ask one favor.

Dean doesn’t say a word, he forces his foot to go in front of the other, repeating until he is out of the room, going farther away from Sam, and it feels like he’s walking through quicksand. He has to tell himself it’s better this way, but deep down he feels it’s not. It’s more lies and deception, secrets that will come out one way or another, but not tonight.

Sam watches Dean walk out, wanting to yell out for his big brother, to stop him so that they could talk, but he lets him go for now.

The Winchester’s burst through the hotel door, dirty, bloody, and breathing heavily. Sam is leaning against Dean for support, a huge gash on his leg, a few claw marks and bruises on his chest. Dean’s left bicep is scratched up, nothing he couldn’t handle, as well as a bruise on his right cheek, probably more injuries he couldn’t feel nor see.

Dean lays Sam gently down on the bed closest to the bathroom, wincing as Sam grabs a hold of the bites on his arm, suppressing the urge to scream. He knows his brother is in pain, a bit more then they had ever been from a normal hunt, and that’s enough to make him ignore his own pain.

“Dean!” Sam shouts, prompting Dean to wince at how loud his brother was, hoping that no one got suspicious and came over to investigate the noise.

As soon as Sam let go of Dean’s arm, he races over to the bathroom, opening the door, reaching for the glass cabinet. He yanked it open, nearly breaking it off, but he didn’t care, nothing else matters but Sammy.

He grabbed the hydrogen peroxide, bandages, a rag, and supplies for stitches. There was no way they were going to a hospital, they would only be asked questions that they had no answers to, maybe bring the police into it as well. Dean checked over once more, making sure he got everything before heading out to Sam.

The younger Winchester had removed his shirt, exposing three long gashes on his lower abdomen. They hadn’t been too deep, simply flesh wounds, nor were they causing a lot of bleeding. Dean shifted his focus to Sam’s leg which was bleeding badly, a flap of skin hanging off.

Dean got to work, grabbing the hydrogen peroxide, opening it and pouring it on Sam’s wound. The liquid bubbled when it came into contact with the blood, like sea foam. Dean used the rag to clean up as much of the blood as possible, almost gagging as more spilled out of the wound.

“Dean” Sam said, twisting his leg in discomfort, hands gripping his jeans tightly.

Dean looked at his brother, a sad look in his eyes, “I know Sam, I know” he whispered. He grabbed the needle and silk thread, putting the thread through the hole until he felt that was enough, tying the end into a knot.

“Grab something and bite down on it” Dean ordered, holding Sam’s leg still, waiting for Sam.

The younger WInchester grabbed his shirt from beside him, twisting it before putting it into his mouth, and biting down on it. He raised his thumb up to Dean, giving him the go to continue.

Dean nodded, taking one last look at Sam before he looked back at his leg, needle ready in his hand. He used his thumb to push the skin down, blood oozing from the spot, before he stuck the needle through. Sam only twitched, a little squeak coming from him, his body jolting upward.

Dean waited for Sam to calm down before he continued, pressing Sam’s skin down, weaving the needle through his flesh, connecting it so that it fit back together. Blood continued to push out, although now it had been in lower quantities until the very end when his whole leg was stitched up.

Dean grabbed the hydrogen peroxide once more, pouring it over the stitches, using the rag to clean the remaining blood. Sam winces a bit at the pressure, and it makes Dean stop, worried he’s putting his brother through more pain. After a while he takes the roll of bandages and wraps Sam’s leg, going from a little below his knee to his ankle.

“Thank you Dean, I owe ya one” Sam huffs as he spits out his shirt, sitting upright on the bed.

Dean doesn’t know what to say, like the time before with the rugaru. He wants to yell at Sam, for getting them almost killed, for almost killing himself. He also wants nothing more than to let it go, let it slip away, forgotten until years later when they laugh it off.

“You do owe me” Dean says, a little more harsh than he intended too, but with all the same meaning.

He moves from the bottom of the bed to the other bed, taking the supplies with him, sitting down to take care of his own wounds. It’s nothing bad, his arm had mostly stopped bleeding, the bruise on his cheek is throbbing, definitely not as bad as Sam had gotten. No stitches will be needed, just some cleaning and bandages will do.

Dean tears his shirt sleeve off, grabbing the open peroxide and pouring onto his wound. It fizzed as it mixes with his blood, dripping down to his forearm, onto the bed. He uses the other side of the rag to clean the blood off before he wrapped it up.

The entire time, Sam simply watched him, eyes attentive, mouth slightly opened as if he wanted to say something, which he does. Dean doesn’t want him to, he wants him to stay quite, let it go, but that’s not the Sam he knows.

“What do you want from me?” Sam asks.

Dean continue to wrap his bicep until all of the bandage is used up, tucking it under the rest of the wrap. Dean continues to inspect the rest of his body for any wounds he could've missed, acting as if he couldn’t hear or see Sam.

Dean would do that when they were kids. He’d pretend he couldn’t hear or see Sam, acting as if he was invisible. It was often a game they played with each other, never born out of anger. The feeling it brought to Sam was an unbearable pain, worse then anything physical.

“Look at me” Sam whispers, trying to will Dean to face him, see how much he regret what he did.

Dean’s disgusted with how dirty he is, the need to take a shower growing stronger. He smells like blood, dirt covering him like frosting on a cake. He can feel tiny bits of rocks underneath his nails, along with werewolf fur. He can only imagine how he actually looks. He stands up from the bed, still ignoring Sam, and walks to the bathroom. He turns on the light, facing the mirror, and taking a long look.

His face is covered in dirt, eyes bloodshot, drooping as he the adrenaline slowly leaves his body. His right cheek is purple and swollen, most likely gonna be there for a while, a slight scratch above it. His hair is going in every direction, sticky with who knows what.

Dean turned on the faucet on, dipping his head, and cupping his hands under the water. He splashed his face, trying to get rid of as much dirt for now. He even runs his hands through his hair, still unsure of what could possibly be in there.

He looked down at the sink drain, watching as the water turned from clear to a murky brown, blood coming into the mix every now and then.

Turning the water off, he grabbed a towel from beside the sink, drying off his face. As he looked back into the mirror, he could see Sam standing by the door, chest bare, eyes filled with worry.

“You look horrible” Dean comments, voice void of any emotion. He turned around, pushing past Sam, shoulders brushing, wincing as it had been the one with the bandages.

Dean knows that his every move is being watched, and it makes his insides burn up.

“You’re one to talk” Sam shoots back, his followed by a small chuckle.

Dean’s glad he’s facing away from Sam as he was grinning from ear to ear before his face returned back to it’s emotionless state. A silence follows, neither one knowing what exactly to say, waiting for the other to say something first.

Dean grabs a beer from on top of the table, sighing as he realizes they had forgotten to put them in the fridge. He didn’t care, after the night he had been through, he would drink just about anything, even luke warm beer.

“You could’ve gotten killed, again” Dean says, twisting the top of the beer off, making a ‘pop’ sound.

Sam was still by the bathroom, arms crossed against hic chest, leaning against the wall, biting his lip with his head down. He already knew Dean would probably go into his lecturing mode, going on and on about why Sam shouldn’t act as if his life means nothing, but Dean’s not in the mood to lecture.

“I hope you know I won’t let you out of my sight” Dean says, his lips curling up into a smile.

Sam smiles as well, limping from the wall over to the table, using the wall as support before sitting down and grabbing a beer as well. He’s partially happy that Dean isn’t lecturing him, it’s not what they needed tonight, not with how exhausted they are.

“You gonna have me sleep in your bed so you can keep an eye on me, like when we were younger?’ Sam asked, half jokingly.

Dean thought about the idea, making his stomach flutter of the idea of having Sam in his bed like the old times. He missed having Sam so close to him, nothing could separate them, not even Dad. The weight of Sam in his arms was one he had been so accustomed to that when Sam got too old, Dean felt like a part of him was missing.

“Yeah, until you learn not to throw away your life like it’s nothing” Dean smiled, taking a swig of beer before setting it back onto the table.

The older Winchester stood up from the table, walking over to the bed he had been one, sitting down on the edge. He untied his shoes, setting them down neatly besides the bed. Then he removed his socks, shirts, and pants, leaving him in nothing but his boxers.

Sam watched the entire time, his eyes not once leaving Dean, even when he swung his legs onto the bed, giving him a full view of what Dean was packing. It was then he realized Dean was serious about what he said.

“Are you coming” Dean said, patting the other side of the bed.

Sam bit the inside of his cheek, wondering if this was weird. It was fine they had did this as kids, because they were kids. Now that they were two fully grown men, it was a bit different. Not to mention that Dean was only in his boxers, and they’d be under the same covers.

Sam was hesitant as he bent over, untying his shoes, taking them and his socks off. He then worked on what was left of his pants, undoing his zipper, pulling them down his legs. The entire time Dean was watching as well, with a rather bored look.

“Enjoying the show?” Sam muttered as he stood up, limping over to the other side of the bed.

Dean rolled his eyes, turning so that he was no facing away from Sam, hiding the obvious blush on his cheeks.

“You wish” Dean retorted.

Butterflies filled Sam’s stomach as he lifted up the covers, exposing Dean’s back. His hazel eyes focused on the many scars Dean had, each one telling a story of their hunts, both successful and not. He could also make out faint freckles that were like stars on the sky known as Dean Winchester.

Sam wasn’t sure why, but he smiled, a weird sensation burning his body. He shook his head, climbing into bed with Dean, facing towards his back.

“We can talk about this in the morning” Dean said, turning his head so that their eyes could meet.

“No” Sam says, his mouth moving faster than his brain could think.

Dean’s caught off guard, shooting Sam a confused look. He would’ve thought that Sam of all people would want to keep the peace for as long as possible.

“No?” Dean asks, completely turning around so that he is on his side, face to face with Sam.

As much as Sam wanted to let it go, to not have Dean lecture him, it needed to happen. He didn’t want it to happen, he really didn’t want to fight, but he knew they needed to get it out of there system before it got too bad.

By morning, Dean would’ve brushed it off, saying he was fine, but in reality that anger was bubbling inside him, waiting until Sam did something else to set him off. So right then, while they were still awake, they needed to get it out.

“Let’s get it over with” Sam said, tiredly, waiting for Dean to start.

Dean’s narrowed his eyes, shooting Sam daggers, only if looks could kill. Sam knew he had said something wrong, triggering Dean’s anger, which was what he wanted. He was like his Dad in that way, not one to back down even when it was good for him.

“ ‘Let’s get it over with’?” Dean mocks, scoffing as he sat up on the bed, back resting against the headboard.

Sam sat up too, leaning on his right arm, looking up at Dean. He could tell is brother was fighting back from saying everything on his mind, the unfiltered Dean Winchester. He watched as Dean bit his lip, biting so hard that he had drew blood.

“You say that as if we can just get over you using yourself as bait not only once” Dean throws up two fingers,” but twice! I mean, come on man, what is with you lately?” Dean asked, his voice becoming louder by the second.

“I wanted to help” Sam immediately replied, his tone harsher than before, his anger rising along with Dean’s.

Dean rolls his eyes, crossing his arms against his chest. He looked so big from where Sam was, like he was the taller one of the two, the more dominant one.

“So you help by nearly getting yourself killed? What a great help that is” Dean shouts sarcastically, looking Sam right in the eyes.

Sam’s anger is flaring, burning just as much as Dean’s, if not more. He sits up completely on the bed, the covers falling and exposing the claw marks on his chest, further proving Dean’s point.

Dean’s eyes dart towards the marks, blood sealing the wound, still red and irritated. There’s a moment where his eyes soften, guilt flooding as he realized that he had let that happen. It’s gone as fast as it came, replaced with fury.

“Why are you doing this?” Dean points at Sam’s chest,” do you want to die? Do you want me to make more deals, go through hell, to bring you back?” His face is burning, voice cracking; he’s on the verge of tears.

Sam swallows the spit sitting in his mouth, and it feels like he’s swallowing a rock. He’s not even sure he knows why he puts himself in harms way, like all he is good for is to be bait in every hunt.

Dean’s waiting for an answer, curious and confused, not wrapping his head around what could possibly make Sam want to put himself in danger. He knows it makes him angry, to the point where he can’t even look at Sam. So why?

“I owe you” there goes that damn sentence he keeps saying.

“Stop fucking saying that!” Dean shouts, his body shaking with anger,” you owe me nothing”

That’s where he’s wrong. Sam owes him so much more than what he could even give, and he wants Dean to know that. He owes his life to the man who’s made deals, gone to hell, put him before the entire world.

He owes him.

“I’m trying to repay you, Dean, give you whatever you want” Sam’s voice cracks, and he feels so much smaller than Dean.

“You” the word slips from his mouth, and he wanted so badly to take it back, for that word to fall back on his tongue, staying there for eternity.

“You have me” Sam replies, as if that was the stupidest thing Dean could’ve said.

He shakes his head, Sam’s not understanding. Dean feels like his body is not his own, possessed by the man who knows what he wants, who is tired of lying and keeping secrets. Dean can only watch and be merely a puppet for his feelings.

“No, I don’t, not the way I want” Each word pulls him under the tide, and he feels like he could drown.

Sam’s confused, tilting his eyes, not understanding what his brother could possibly mean. He’s there with him, in that bed, alive and somewhat healthy. What other way could Dean possibly want him?

He’s searching Dean’s face, looking for the answer that hides in the expressions of his big brother, but he’s not getting much.

“You have me” Sam says once more, arm reaching out for Dean, he wants to comfort him.

Dean grabbed Sam’s wrist, staring directly into his brother’s eyes. He sees every sinful thought he’s ever had, every dream he wanted to come true, the one thing that was truly worth living for. It’s all right there, in the form of a man named Sam Winchester, his baby brother.

Sam’s eyes change, he’s no longer confused, understanding what Dean meant. The look in his eyes is not disgust, but it feels so cold that it makes Dean shiver. He’s back under the water, drowning, he wants Sam to save him.

“You’re confused Dean” He can’t breath,” that’s not how you feel” Sam tried to yank his hand from Dean, but his grip tightens; he’s not letting go.

Dean’s drowning and it feels as if Sam is holding him under, killing him in different ways. It hurts, it hurts so much, but he’s not sure what to do.

He yanks on Sam’s wrist, pulling him so that he know lays on his back, and Dean gets on top of him, making sure he doesn’t hurt Sam. The younger Winchester doesn’t move from under Dean, he doesn’t tell him to get off, he doesn’t fight back. He’s staring up at Dean, jaw clenched, unsure of what will happen next.

“I’m not confused Sammy, I want you inside me” He practically screams, frustrated with everything, a tear falling, landing on Sam’s cheek.

Sam’s looking at Dean with a pitiful look, as if he sees a sick animal that needs to be helped, but he’s not a sick animal, it’s his brother.

Dean’s drowning, and as he looks up, Sam has that same pitiful look, distorted by the moving water. He wants Sam to let him up, to understand how he feels, to accept him. ‘Please Sammy, let me breath’.

“Dean I-”He’s cut off by soft lips pressing against his own.

Sam owes him, and he wants to fuck him until his body is numb, until he feels like he has to puke. He wants Sam to strike his body, do anything to it, it’s his. He owes him so much, and all Dean wants is Sam, that’s all he’s ever wanted.

Dean pulls back, waiting for Sam to yell about how disgusting he is, about how Sam hates him and never wants to see him again. He waits, staring at a stunned Sam, readying his body to be thrown across the bed in seconds, but nothing happens.

“I’m sorry” Dean whispers, letting go of Sam’s wrist, getting off of Sam, but he’s pulled back down.

The world feels like it’s going in slow motion as Sam’s arms wrap around his neck, pulling his face towards his own, their lips meeting again. Sam’s no longer holding his head underwater, he's’ pulled him up, the water leaving his lungs, he’s able to breath again.

Dean can feel Sam’s tongue pressing against his lips, and he parts them, letting his brother’s tongue explore every inch of his mouth. He’s getting lost in Sam, like he is now the sea, and he’s drowning once again. He doesn’t mind, he lets himself get swept into the waves, letting them pull him farther under.

Sam didn’t even realize he had these feelings for Dean, he still isn’t sure what they are, but he wants him. He knows it’s wrong, they both may regret this later, but he wants it now. It’s like their lips meeting triggered something within Sam, unleashing feelings he has suppressed for so long, told himself they were something different.

“I want you” Dean whispers, as if saying it too loud would shatter this world he’s in.

Sam nods, his hands pulling Dean closer, their chests pressed against one another. He ignores the ache of the claw marks, the throbbing of his leg, his mind focusing on Dean and only him. That’s how it’s always been, just him and his big brother.

Dean’s starts to work on his boxers, pulling them down, off of each leg, making sure he doesn’t move too much as to cause discomfort to Sam. He can feel himself hardening with each second, his asshole twitching, wanting Sam.

“I want to ride you, you in-fucking-side me” Dean moans against Sam’s lips, giving the boxers a final tug as he pulled them off, exposing his whole body for Sam to see.

Sam pulled away from the kiss, his eyes glued to Dean’s cock, involuntarily licking his lips. The tip is red and swollen, leaking with precum, begging to be touched. Just the sight of Dean so needy and vulnerable was sending Sam over the edge, his own dick standing up at attention.

His hands darted down to his own boxers, sliding them down his right leg, carefully moving them down his left one, making sure to not mess with the bandages.

Dean’s staring down at Sam, his eyes fixed on just how big his brother was, mouth watering. Never in his wildest dreams could he have ever imagined just how big and beautiful Sam was. Nothing could come close, nothing.

“I want you inside me” Dean whispers, repeating himself once more, diving back down, his lips connecting with Sam’s.

Dean’s left arm is behind Sam’s head, pulling him closer, his right hand tracing down his chest, making sure to not touch his wound. His hand dips down, following his happy trail, going down until he can feel his cock in his hands.

He strokes Sam, making sure to go slow, not wanting to have him cum just yet. It drives Sam crazy, his hips starting to buck, wanting for Dean to hurry up, and it makes Dean feel powerful in a way.

“I want to be inside you” Sam mumbles, unable to take more of the teasing, he needs him like he needs air.

Dean simply nods, breaking away from the kiss, straightening himself out, still holding Sam’s cock. He pushed himself slightly off the bed so that he was hovering above Sam’s cock, positioned so that he was on top of it, and slid down.

The older Winchester hissed as he felt his hole expand with the width of Sam, the feeling was something entirely new, better than he had ever felt with a woman. It was like heaven and hell all at once, a high he never wanted to come off of.

He let go of Sam’s cock, going all the way down to the hilt, his hands falling onto Sam’s breastplates as to steady himself. Dean could feel his hole clenching, tightening around Sam’s cock, fitting around it so perfectly.

“Oh Sammy” Dean’s voice was gruff, worn out through the years, yet he sounded so innocent.

He pushed himself off of Sam, hissing as he felt himself become empty before he sat back down, Sam’s cock filling him once again. It felt so right, to have Sam inside him, as if he was made to be filled up, never empty.

Sam grabbed a hold of Dean’s hips, his hips bucking up into Dean, no longer able to control himself. He tried to match his thrusts with each time Dean went up, but they had been off sync, bringing Dean down to quickly.

“I’ve never done this before” Dean clenches his hole, sending Sam into a frenzy” W-with a g-guy” Sam manages to get out, his hands moving from Dean’s hips to his back, pulling him down.

Their lips crash, tongues dancing in each other’s mouth, enjoying how each other taste. Sam can feel Dean’s cock against his stomach, cum oozing out, sticking to his claw marks. He can’t explain it, but it was as if Dean’s cum made it sting so much less, like that was all he needed to heal it.

“Me either” Dean’s rocking his hips, his fingers dancing across Sam’s chest, finding their way to his nipples.

He works on both of them at the same time, twisting and squeezing, until they were raw and pink. Sam was losing control, not able to tell what to do anymore, his senses being overloaded with Dean. Up was down, left was right, and all he knew was Dean.

He gave in eventually, succumbing to his brother and everything he was doing.

Dean smirked, picking up his pace, rocking his hips even more. Sam was moaning into his mouth, unable to get anything out, and Dean knew he was going to cum soon.

“Not yet” Dean said, pulling away from Sam, and getting from off of him.

Sam let out a sound of disapproval, sitting up as Dean moved from off of him, going farther down the bed. He was in between his legs, back arched, ass in tha air, his head right by his cock.

Dean’s lips were so pink and plump, wrapping around the tip of Sam’s cock, his tongue was like a gift sent from heaven. Sam watched as Dean moved his head down, taking more and more of him, his tongue pressing lightly against him. He legs were twitching, his hands gripped the sheets, toes curling from pleasure.

“Dean!” He yelled, not caring who heard.

Dean chuckled, the vibration running through his cock and into his body, making him lose control once again. Sam’s hands shot from the sheets of the bed to Dean’s hair, tugging his head farther down, until he was at the very base.

His head moved back up, leaving Sam’s cock wet with his saliva, glistening in the motel room’s light. Sam bucked his hips, Dean’s head moving down once again, his cock disappearing into his beautiful mouth.

It only took a few more thrusts before Sam came, filling Dean’s mouth to the point where it spilled from the corners of his mouth.

Sam pulled his brother back up so that their faces were inches apart, and he presses his lips against Dean’s. It’s different from before, not filled with lust, not unsure of what he felt. It was genuine, far from being confused, it was Sam realizing what he felt.

“Please don’t put yourself in harms way” Dean whispers, looking into Sam’s eyes, a serious expression now on his face.

Sam almost had forgotten all about what he had did, putting himself in danger so he could owe Dean. A part of him was glad that he did, but now, looking into Dean’s eyes, he realized it was not worth it.

“I won’t” He rested his forehead against Dean’s,”I promise”


End file.
